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A precious illusion

People come and go, as do their gestures.
Never again in the same order as before.
The wind blows continuously,
rearranging things on its travels.
The smallest fraction of seconds that goes by
is a preciousness in itself.
As nothing in this material form
ever remains the same;
it’s ever-changing, ever– owing, ever-renewing.
Do you fear death?
Your body’s constituent parts die and are re-born everyday.
This “You” in form will not exist ever again.
There is one truth that is undying and unchanging.
And “This”, that you see, feel, touch, smell, hear;
“This” that you react to with thought
is not it.
There is no “Thing” that you can ever hold on to,
without losing balance, without feeling lost...
Or without losing your sense of true self.
Everything passes, even this.
And all this that passes is there to enjoy
whilst it is there, no more.
When things pass you,
they never come back how they were.
Their solidity is but a memory.
And even the memory distorts over time.
There is nothing solid.
Solidity is but an illusion.
A precious illusion that is
a rarity in existence.

Autres oeuvres par Esther Yasmin Groeneveld...



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